‘‘Oh, but we will,’’ the woman said matter-of-factly. ‘‘But that man on the porch will have to be fired. He acted as if he didn’t even notice me or hear me when I spoke to him. Honestly, Winter, the ranch is yours, but a hand like him simply can’t be tolerated.’’
‘‘Mary Anna,’’ Winter finally found his voice, ‘‘the will said a month from the captain’s death, not his funeral. You’re a day late.’’
Mary Anna shrieked in horror. ‘‘That can’t be! Oh, that can’t be! You’ve lost the house. Oh, Winter, how dreadful!’’
‘‘No, I didn’t lose anything.’’ Winter folded his arms in blockade. ‘‘And the man on the porch isn’t a hand. He’s a guest.’’
‘‘That’s the way to stand tall, dear.’’ Mary Anna seemed very near tears. ‘‘It can’t be all lost. There’s some way around that will. The captain was a crazy, bitter old man and everyone knew it. We’ll hire a lawyer. Or we can sell off some of those cattle you’ve got and buy the house back.’’
‘‘I won’t be selling any cattle,’’ he whispered between tight lips. ‘‘I don’t want to buy the house away from its present owner.’’
Kora saw something new in him then, an Irish temper blended with a warrior spirit. The mix of his ancestry was disquieting. She knew it was time to move before she witnessed more than a hint of his fury. She could almost see the anger in his voice crackling the air like dry lightning. His eyes narrowed and the muscles beneath his sleeves tightened.
‘‘He won’t have to buy back the house.’’ Kora could see that she startled Mary Anna with her words. ‘‘The current owner would give it to him if he asked.’’
The woman seemed thrown off balance as she realized someone else was in the foyer. She whirled, staggered slightly, then appeared to brace herself for something horrible.
Mary Anna glared at Kora with first fear, then disgust. She lifted her nose, as though being forced to talk to the help. ‘‘I wasn’t aware we had company.’’ She moved closer to Winter. ‘‘We prefer to have our discussions alone, miss.’’
Kora knew Mary Anna thought her the housekeeper. She recognized the look… that blank stare folks who think themselves above others give their help. A look that seems to see through someone they think of as unimportant.
Kora swallowed hard and faced Mary Anna. ‘‘I said he won’t have to sell cattle or buy back the house.’’
‘‘And why is that, Miss…?’’
Kora smiled, knowing she should feel at least a tiny bit of guilt for enjoying the woman’s sure-to-come shock. But she’d taken a great dislike to Miss Mary Anna. Everything about the lady, from her dress with one too many ruffles to her overblown speech, told Kora that Mary Anna made self-centeredness a life’s calling.
‘‘Not Miss,’’ Kora said quietly as she leaned and picked up the gloves Mary Anna had tossed aside. ‘‘Mrs.’’ She glanced at Winter and caught the hint of a smile. ‘‘Mrs. Winter McQuillen.’’
Color drained from Mary Anna’s face so completely her patches of rouge looked like warpaint.
‘‘No!’’ She shook her head and directed all her rage toward Winter. ‘‘You didn’t marry another!’’
All the anger vanished from his eyes as he winked at Kora. ‘‘It appears I have, Mary Anna. Kora became my wife before midnight last night.’’
Mary Anna glanced from Kora to Winter and sighed. The back of her hand covered her eyes as she melted slowly with practiced grace.
Winter caught the unwelcomed guest and lifted her unconscious body into his arms, then looked at Kora for instructions.
‘‘Put her in the study.’’ She moved ahead of him to open the door wider. ‘‘I’ll get some water and a cool cloth.’’
‘‘Brandy would do more for bringing her around,’’ Winter mumbled as he dropped her on the study couch that had only minutes ago been his bed.
Kora ran to the kitchen. She searched the cabinets for brandy or any spirits. After a few minutes, she gave up and filled a bucket with water. Dropping the dipper inside the pail, she hurried back to the study.
Mary Anna was sitting up with one arm draped around Winter’s neck. He knelt in front of her with a decanter of brandy in one hand and her fingers pressed against his chest with his other hand.
Looking over his shoulder, Mary Anna didn’t remove her arm as Kora entered. ‘‘Not a bucket and dipper!’’ she scolded. ‘‘I never drink out of anything that isn’t china or crystal.’’
Kora thought of tossing all the water at her at once, but she guessed that probably wasn’t proper.
‘‘Honestly, Winter, where did you find this girl?’’ Mary Anna glared. ‘‘And left-handed, too. My aunt says lefthanded women and redheaded men are an abomination against heaven.’’
Kora was glad she couldn’t see Winter’s face, for she wouldn’t have wanted him to see her. She knew better than to offer company a drink from a bucket, but she’d been in a hurry.
‘‘I’ll take it back,’’ Kora whispered as she turned.
‘‘Since you’re going back to the kitchen, dear’’-Mary Anna’s voice dripped honey-‘‘would you mind brewing me some hot tea? The ride out here this morning was dreadfully cold.’’
Without a word, Kora ran back to the kitchen. Not allowing tears to fall, she put the kettle on and searched for any china. But the kitchen had been run by men for years, and china must have long ago been packed away or broken.
It appeared whatever she served tea in would look as plain as herself. She sat down at the table in front of her half finished grocery list and tried to think.
Just as the kettle boiled, Winter opened the kitchen door. ‘‘We won’t be needing any tea,’’ he said as he folded his arms and leaned against the counter.
‘‘Good.’’ Kora wiped her hands nervously on her skirt. ‘‘Because I couldn’t find any china.’’
Winter shook his head. ‘‘She’s one picky lady, isn’t she?’’
Kora nodded.
‘‘I guess that’s why I find it so unbelievable she chose me. Mary Anna Monroe could marry anyone in the county, yet she rode out here to offer to marry me. After the dressing down she gave me a few weeks ago at her aunt’s home, I figured I’d be her last choice for a husband.’’
Kora didn’t want to hear more. He’d said enough. She opened the back door and walked out. With long strides to nowhere, she crossed the backyard. Chickens darted around her, but she ignored them as she passed the outbuildings, then the barn, then the corral. Finally, at the edge of an orchard, she stopped and took a long breath.
The morning was sunny but cold, and the trees were still dormant in winter as Kora took in the fresh air. She would manage, she told herself. She’d managed before, she’d do so now. All her life, fate had been slapping her down, pulling the rug from under her so many times she was almost afraid to try and stand. But stand she must, before another blow of life’s fist hit her and she was lost. She could take Winter’s bragging on the other woman. She could take anything she had to in order to survive.
‘‘Having a nice walk?’’ Winter whispered from just behind her.
Whirling, Kora almost bumped into him. ‘‘You followed me!’’ Her heart jumped to her throat, and she widened her stance in preparation for whatever was to come.
‘‘Seemed like the only thing to do if I planned to continue the conversation.’’ Winter backed away slightly as if uneasy with closeness.
‘‘Shouldn’t you be in the study with your fiancee?’’
‘‘She left before I came in the kitchen.’’ Winter shrugged. ‘‘Must have been something I said.’’
Kora looked at him closely. He was almost impossible to read. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or sad.
‘‘You asked her first.’’ Kora straightened, prepared to face what would come. ‘‘If you like, I’ll leave.’’
Pulling a scrap of paper from her pocket, she handed it to him. ‘‘I wrote down that the house was yours. You can date it in six months and say I mailed it to you. Sorry all I had was a piece of butcher paper, but I scratched out the grocery list. I signed it, so everything should be legal.’’
She swallowed her pride. ‘‘If you could give me money for the tickets, I’d pay you back since I didn’t stay the agreed length of time.’’
Win turned the paper over in his hand. ‘‘Want to walk into the trees? There’s a little stream that runs through them. That’s why the captain planted the orchard here. No matter how long we go without rain, I’ve never seen this
